Silent Hill: Ashes
by Laura-CWright
Summary: Katrina Osborne, investigative journalist, is intrigued by the disappearances in and around Silent Hill. She embarks on a quest for answers and is drawn into a world of terror she'd never anticipated.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

She toyed the edges of the plain folder in front of her. It was an extensive undertaking and there was no promise of finding answers. She didn't even know if the Editor-in-Chief would give her permission to follow that hunch. She'd subtly followed the disappearances for a year, but all from behind her desk. The preliminary inquiries were all conducted from within the safety of her office, confined to the reports from the past. The Portland Gazette had retained its status as the largest newspaper in Portland for seven decades. A position maintained by countless benevolent community articles that focused strictly on sentimentally enriched, wholesome topics. The job was easy, but the abject monotony made it far less than the position she'd hoped for.

The missing person's reports had quickly multiplied as time passed. She'd quietly copied every report that came through the office and placed it in her file. In just a year's time, she already had fifty different victims. She'd worked with the newspaper for five years and, had she also included the numbers from previous years, she honestly couldn't imagine what a staggering toll it would be. All of them were last seen somewhere around Silent Hill.

Katrina's standard topics covered everything from bake sales to pet shows, not missing persons or crime. Her literary career had been a perpetual series of "warm and fuzzy" pieces carefully manipulated to portray the town, and its inhabitants, as something from a Normal Rockwell painting. Five years was a long time to waste on yesteryear sensibilities. She was gunning for something more. Something exciting. She would gladly forgo next week's charity auction and even free dinner and massive gift basket from the Quilts for Cats for reporting on their Annual Gala.

The latest individual was a girl named Tina Townshend. Tina was a student with Portland University, smart, pretty and with a promising future. She was also closely linked to a girl who went missing years earlier named Heather Mason. They had both attended the same high school. Both were last seen somewhere in or around Silent Hill. What was wrong with that place? There was something going on.

Maybe it was the road or the terrain, somehow. County Highway 73 could be a precarious drive under the right conditions. The steep inclines and sharp curves could easily become fatal in bad weather. No matter what the reason was, she would find out. She finally had a calling worthy of attention. She had to provide those victims, and their loved ones, with some closure. Maybe it would be something as forthright as a bad curve on a road, there was a lake by the town, perhaps poor weather created such reduced driving conditions that these people wrecked.

Maybe the area was infested with crime and those people were victims of robbery. The roads in that area were quite desolate once you left a town. It would be easy for a gang of individuals to set up obstructions to stop solitary drivers.

She would have been concerned with her own safety, but honestly, there was no need. Who could she kid? The most dangerous faucet of life witnessed in Portland, and likely all surrounding neighborhoods, was a smothering sense of boredom. The likelihood of actual highwaymen, who stopped cars to rob and murder the inhabitants, was next to zero.

The clock above her read one o'clock, Macon should return from his lunch break at any time. Clay Macon had been the senior editor with the paper for thirty years. He was a grandfatherly character whose white hair never changed, regardless of the years. He was typically laid-back and, just like the town, didn't miss any excitement or feel there was any need for sensation in the local media.

In truth, she wasn't necessarily a fan of sensation, but there had to be some excitement, somewhere in the world. Macon offered much wisdom on the industry and what the town's population had grown to expect from the Gazette. But, she wanted something unusual. Something strange and beautiful. She gave him a moment to remove his jacket and get situated behind his desk before she entered his office. "Mr. Macon?"

"Yes, Ms. Osborne?" He grabbed a stack of articles he'd sorted and approved for the next two issues. "What can I do for you?" He didn't take her eyes of the papers as he stacked them together.

"I had an idea for an article, probably a series of articles."

He watched her studiously. "Is it something that would fit our reputation?"

"I believe so."

He motioned for her to take the seat in front of his desk. "Let me hear it."

She tried her best to walk through the idea without making it seem like what it was. Any hint of potential hazard would cause him to issue a stern refusal. She considered her words as she spoke. She merely wanted to cover a seemingly unnoticed angle. She just wanted to highlight the disappearances in the region and felt she could offer more depth on each missing person from the past year. She would even take a snapshot of the last place they were seen, if he would consent to a series.

She omitted all references to Silent Hill, but that was her first stop. People didn't talk about that community, even out this far. They grew silent and quickly changed the topic. She was raised by her Aunt Lola, who only said of Silent Hill, "Leave well enough alone." She would explore the region where every disappearance had occurred, so long as it was within safe distance of a major road or public area, and see if further information could be gleaned that wasn't in the report. She was bored, but not stupid.

Ten minutes later, she wasn't sure how much more whitewash she could place on the idea. Macon surprised her, just when she believed she couldn't continue the sugary speech. "Please pursue it, Katrina." It was unusual for him to use her first name. "It's frightening to consider these members of our communities could be the victims of poor driving conditions or a dangerous hiking area, but… you won't be in any danger, will you?"

"Of course not."

"That settles it, then. Use the rest of the day for research and start the hunt for answers in the morning. Yes, a series would be wonderful. Just cover one individual per article and we'll see what kind of response it draws. If the reception is good, we may make them a regular column." He winked at her.

She returned to her desk, but had no sensation of walking. She couldn't believe how luck had smiled upon her. She was going to find out what happened to everyone. She watched Macon in his office. When he became immersed in the syndication pieces on his computer, she darted to the filing cabinets. She began creating copies of all missing person reports going back as far as they would go.

A ream of paper later, she'd amassed around 200 individuals in over a decade. They'd slipped under the radar because the majority was from surrounding regions. She quietly made her way to the archives in the basement and continued digging for information on Silent Hill or those who'd gone missing around the area. She was pumped. This was going to be one hell of an assignment.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She barely slept at all between those rounds of tossing and turning, her alarm finally went off. This was the day. She still struggled to accept she was doing something, not only outside her office, but also outside Portland. She wasted the previous evening trying to decide what she would wear. She'd hiked on occasion, but didn't have a great deal of suitable clothing. She eventually just chose old jeans and a tee-shirt, along with an old pair of brown hiking boots. She wasn't going to see anyone and would likely spend the day in the middle of nowhere. There was no reason to worry about appearances.

She checked her bag for the necessary items. She had several folders, including the massive victim folder. She had a digital camera that would suffice for the photography needs of the paper. She took a few miscellaneous tools, just in case, but would probably never need them.

She grabbed a flashlight and several other items: a first aid kit and a pad of paper. She didn't want to forget anything. She'd packed the majority of her goods the previous night to avoid a hectic morning rush.

She locked up the apartment and moved on. It would take a little while to arrive at Silent Hill. She still had to drive through Ashfield and Shepherd's Glen. A major highway to bypass the metropolitan areas had been discussed for some time, but the state hadn't gotten to it. If it were like the countless projects discussed in the rumor mills, it would never be realized.

She admired the morning sun's illumination of the tall West Virginia Mountains. They were shades of purple and blue in the distance. Her journey would take her through them. The county highway took drivers through twists and turns of all directions. She rounded the turns at the Devil's Elbow, Hell's Crossroads, and countless other colorfully named locations known only to the surrounding region. At least she wasn't stuck behind a desk.

The engine remained relatively quite despite the rising elevation as she pressed onward. She stopped in Ashfield to grab a biscuit, wasn't the most nutritious breakfast, but it was fast and she was in a hurry. She grabbed her voice recorder and began to recite her thoughts as they came to her:

"Tuesday, August 4th, I'm now leaving Ashfield on the route to Silent Hill. I have mentally run through the victim's list since yesterday. I'm almost certain the disappearances aren't due to criminal activity. There's just no definitive methodology involved. Everything is too random. There has to be another reason.

"I checked with several police stations yesterday afternoon and discussed a few of the area disappearances. Not a single individual had their credit cards or bank cards used after their disappearance. There's no bank activity at all once they'd vanished. The victims all vanished in different locations, all with no witnesses and no strange vehicles or individuals reported nearby…" 

People didn't just disappear. She passed through Shepherd's Glen as quickly as she entered. She was getting closer. People didn't just disappear and strangers didn't go unnoticed.

Silent Hill was a regional mystery. It was a functioning town, just like most of the others, but there was something extraordinary about it. People were too quite when the name was mentioned. Its history was shrouded in a little too much secrecy. Maybe there were a gang of locals that terrorized out-of-towners, but even then, they would surface at some point. They wouldn't just vanish along with the victims. Aunt Lola was from Silent Hill and never discussed it. It intrigued her growing up, but it wasn't until she began work at the Gazette that the thirst for answers really grew.

The file for a man named James Sunderland had been faxed to local police stations from the West Virginia State Police, when he vanished. All area police stations were given full notes, the details of his car and two photographs. They followed his tracks in Silent Hill from a public restroom, down a common hiking trail, and the prints simply vanished near a local cemetery. They didn't veer off the trail. There was no sign of struggle or evidence he'd backtracked. His prints just stopped.

There was also information on the latest disappearance. Tina Townshend. She'd been attending a university, was sent on assignment with several friends to gather specimens for her botany course. They began hiking near the Silent Hill Historical Society and she disappeared. Her friends searched for two days, but there was no sign of her. Her tracks went inside the Historical Society's building, but didn't emerge. Strangely, the building was locked when her friends arrived. They would never have gotten in, but luckily, the curator arrived to open for the day. They checked the windows and the backdoor. She walked into the building ahead of her group, and by the time they got there, she was gone. Again, no sign of struggle. No sign of Tina.

The strangest quality of the history was the random nature. There was no linking quality to any victim. All shapes, all sizes, all ages and both genders had been taken in nearly equal numbers and all at utterly random times. Some were originally from Silent Hill and some had just come to visit for their own personal reasons.

She pulled into the parking lot of the Silent Hill Historical Society. She paused a moment and looked around. It was on the outskirts of the town, next to the edge of Toluca Lake. The society building was dark. The small red and white hours sign stated they weren't in before lunch through the week. She walked up to the entrance and gently tugged on the latch. Apparently, the building didn't have a caretaker or housekeeper after hours. They probably couldn't afford one. Most county historical places usually operated on shoestring budgets.

So, how would Tina have entered? The doors were made of thick hardwood. The industrial deadbolt wouldn't have succumbed to a young woman's tug. It was not a lesser quality lock that could be subdued with a hair pin or a credit card. If Tina had broken in, there would've been damaged reported to the authorities when they arrived.

She snapped a few photographs of the area before she decided to try the public restroom Sunderland visited, before he went missing. She drove back down the county highway. It was an empty area. The sluggish traffic remained sparse, although there should be a number of cars out. It was nearly time for school to start.

She passed the entrances for Rosewater Park. She would return just to visit, it was a beautiful area. Sunderland's car had long since been impounded, at least according to his file. There was no indication that he'd returned for it or had returned to his life. She pulled in the lot and looked around. The notes on him indicated he'd lost his wife around a year before he went missing. She'd been hospitalized in Ashfield before she died.

The road hadn't been as dangerous as she'd assumed. There weren't any hairpin turns around Silent Hill. The lake wasn't close enough to the road to pose a risk of swallowing vehicles if they went over the edge. Toluca Lake didn't seem deep enough to instantly envelop wreckage should any fall in it. Perhaps out in the center, but not at this shore. She parked the Toyota next to the building and pulled her bag from the passenger's seat.

There weren't any other cars nearby, but that was best. She could explore in silence and absorb the environment. It was puzzling. The town wasn't particularly large, nothing you could get lost in. Portland was a thriving city in comparison. She would hike the trail herself and see if it harbored any potential threats. That might offer some explanation. Maybe all the victims somehow, inadvertently wound up on the same trail. Maybe that trail passed a place in the ground that had fallen through into a cavern below?

According to the file notes, this was the same trail Sunderland disappeared on. It wasn't anything like she expected. The trail had a few curves, but nothing remotely perilous. It was not small or difficult to navigate. There weren't any protruding boulders or holes in the ground left by burrowing animals to obstruct the trail. The path was well-constructed and the trees limbs were too high above to pose any kind of risk to people.

She approached an old stone wishing well off to the right. Someone had constructed an elaborate white gazebo surrounding it. She stepped up and photographed the area. It was beautiful. Someone had taken great care to build a wonderful spot. She looked down into the well and noticed something sparkling in the water. She couldn't tell if it was a metal sparkle, or just a piece of trash. She leaned down into the well and tried to aim her flashlight directly towards the source.

It was difficult to see as the water continually waved, even though nothing touched it. She couldn't make out what lay beneath the surface. She reached her hand down into the water; its chill engulfed her flesh as she reached to grasp the object. She grabbed onto something metal, but not before losing her balance and plunging headfirst into the water.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She was able to maneuver underwater; her plunge stopped around 6 feet below the surface. She gently dropped onto a massive metal grating. She pushed upward with her feet and returned to the surface. She coughed and tried to clear the water from her eyes.

She treaded water for a moment; somehow, the water now had an acrid iron taste and gave off a rusty metallic odor. She hadn't noticed that earlier. Her eyes stung when she blinked them. The well was probably there before the town came to exist. There was no way of knowing what kind of chemicals might've developed in the murky depths. She rubbed the final trace of water blur from her eyes and looked up through a grating above. The well was now covered with the bars like those she'd landed on. What happened there? The roof of the well and the gazebo above were gone. She could see white and gray sky through the slats. She reached up and nudged the grating, it rattled. The cover was loose.

She used her body to push up out of the water a second time, she hit the grate above and knocked it off. Had it been bolted, she would've been marooned. She climbed up to the rim of the stone wall and paused. She hadn't gone anywhere. She fell into the water and came right back up. But, something had happened. The world had changed. The trees were no longer lush or living. They were now crude iron rails that jutted towards the sky. The ground was ashen and smoky embers continued to flicker beneath the white ash that was once grass. She was dreaming. That was all. The scenery around her was merely a figment of her imagination.

The pristine white gazebo was now nothing more than a few blackened posts. She climbed over the stonework of the well and stood upright on the ground. At least her bag was waterproof, her documentation and materials were safe. She shook the excess liquid from the exterior before she unzipped the pack. She removed the camera from the case inside. She needed to photograph wherever she was. Of course, it wouldn't do any good since she was dreaming, but it kept her mind off the barren wasteland. If her imagination kicked in, in this sort of atmosphere, it would quickly become a nightmare.

She turned the device on and waited for the introductory splash screen to clear. She adjusted the settings several times. She gently shook the device, but it didn't help. The camera showed the exact same spot she'd been in. It showed the world as it was before she emerged from the well. Again, there were trees and vegetation. It didn't register the world she now stood in. What good did that do?

Well, there was nothing more she could do. She just had to wait until she woke. Who knew how long that would take? She squinted to decipher where the trail now lay. She stepped away from the well's rusted stone exterior. The well's stones must contain iron, because they were as rusty as the water inside. Luckily, she found the flat indentation of the trail where she'd been walking. It was now covered with several inches of white ash.

It looked like a blizzard had hit this strange place. White flakes hailed down from the sky in random frequencies, but it wasn't cold. She held out her hand and caught several flecks, but they smudged black. It was ash. Ash fell like snow and the white world was dim. What had she watched before sleeping? She couldn't remember. Evidently, she'd caught something on volcanoes. That was it. Just a special on volcanoes.

She continued forward, but there was no sign life anywhere. The animals were gone, she couldn't hear any vehicle engines, nothing. She crested the next knoll and the trail came to a sharp turn. The corner's eroded edge dropped down into the red rusty waters of Toluca Lake. Why was the water now red? The well had just been rusty, hadn't it?

She didn't like this. When would she wake up?

She walked ahead and came to the broken iron gate of what appeared to be a cemetery. She held the camera up to see what it really was. In the camera's view, it was a beautiful country graveyard with a picturesque stone church on the far side. It looked like it had been constructed from the same stones the well had been. In her view, outside the lens, it was home to a few crude rocks and the foundation of a structure that once was.

She walked towards the foundation to see if she could find a road or something. She passed through the next battered gate and found an outlet that led to a road. She stopped quickly. There was someone, or something, ahead of her. A man stood there, at least it looked like a man. A strange man with a triangle on his head. No, it was a huge piece of metal, shaped like a pyramid. _Too late. _Her imagination had taken over.

She stealthily backed up towards the gate. She didn't want to encounter this individual. It looked like she'd escaped his notice, she was ready to dart back through the entrance, but he stopped all movement. He slowly turned. A thousand massive roaches poured out from behind him. They quickly sped towards her.

She moved slowly at first, but when she realized there was no way of avoiding him or the bugs, she bolted back through the cemetery. She sprinted to the other side and stopped for a moment. Her sides were splitting.

She would wake up at any moment.

She turned to see where they were. He was still right behind her, dragging that damned sword, the bugs chattering as they raced to her. That sword made a terrible racket when he dragged it. It sounded like metal groaning against metal. She took off again, her muscles were on fire. How did he catch up so quickly with that damned hunk of metal? She reached the curve with the drop and turned.

She had to wake up.

She gasped because he was right behind her, sword drawn above his head. He swung it down towards her and she jumped back, over the ledge. The tip of the blade cut her shirt and scratched her flesh. She fell down into the water, deeper and deeper.

She had to wake up.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

She dove into the murky water with her eyes and mouth clinched. She could risk the water's toxicity and perhaps emerge with her life, or stand above and be filleted with no hope of survival. There was also the risk that those bugs could swim, all three possibilities probably meant she was dead anyway. She waited… and waited… but, no bugs touched her. The blade didn't pierce her body. She remained as deep as she could and held her breath for as long as she could, until her chest felt like it would implode. She couldn't go without oxygen any longer.

She rose to the top of the water. She gasped for breath between coughs; she tried to clear her vision. The man was gone. The bugs were gone. The water was clear and free of metallic odor. The world was as it had been before she slipped into the well. The sun shone above, the wildlife noises surrounded her and the greenery was as bright as ever. What the hell?

She must've sat down and fallen asleep once she climbed out of the well. She looked up to see a large wooden bench and a fence outlining the ledge. She must've sleepwalked from the gazebo. But, how did she fall through the chain link fence, down into the water? Where was her stuff?

She'd dropped everything when the thing began chasing her in that other world. She couldn't carry everything and run fast enough to escape them. But, in this world, she probably left it all near the well. That was some damned dream. She wrestled herself up the embankment and back on the path. She was soaked to the bone. She had to just press on, with or without her equipment. Regardless of what she lost. Her car keys remained in her pocket, her purse was in her car's trunk, she would return to her car in a different way. Her body chilled as she retraced her steps towards the church. It was the same route she'd taken in that dream.

There were no signs of ash or fire anywhere in the countryside. The healthy trees clustered around the massive black iron cemetery gates with elaborate floral scrollwork. It looked as it had in the camera's lens, well as it had in that dream. She opened the creaking gate and stepped inside. The cemetery was empty, but far from desolate. It was gorgeous.

She crossed the field of burial, her camera and bag lay near the outer fence at the gate. She paused. That made no sense. That had just been a dream. That hadn't been _real_. It was impossible. But, there they were. She reached out and picked them up. They were tangible. Maybe it was best not to question it. It happened, she escaped, and she was safe. She just needed to get back to her car and out of this strange place. She peeked through the scrollwork of the gate before she left the grounds. If her bag were here, would that creature be out there? If he remained out there, she would just go back the other way.

There was no sign of figure or bug. She took a deep breath and walked through the old entrance. He might just be ahead. She peeked around the corners, but still no sign of the pyramid man.

Why was she looking for him? It was ludicrous. She scratched her stomach and winced. It burned. She looked down and there was a long scratch on her skin, beneath the ripped portion of her shirt. But, it wasn't ripped, it was sliced. It couldn't be sliced. That had just been a dream, hadn't it?

She shook her head as her mind raced. What had she done? She'd just wanted to know what happened to those people, but she had a sinking suspicion she already did. Maybe they found their way into that world. They found their way into that dark place where fire glowed and ash rained. Maybe that wasn't just a dream world.

She pressed on towards the highway. The trail should just loop back around onto the road ahead, that's what the articles stated when Sunderland went missing. She would walk back to the car once she hit asphalt. There wasn't anything further to see here and she wasn't looking here any longer. It didn't matter what that place had been, she would dismiss it as a dream and be done with it.

She approached the rear of a gray guard rail ahead. Now, she just needed to choose which direction went back to her car. It was probably west. She ambled through the brush and stepped across the barrier. It was good to be back on solid road. Her focus was broken when she looked eastward down the road. She stopped. She squinted to see movement in the distance. Someone approached her slowly. She could barely see them, they must be tiny.

She watched as the colorful blur became a pretty blond girl, a child. Her denim jumper had a rocket ship on the front of it with teddy bears as astronauts. What was a child doing out here? She approached the girl, "Hello?"

The little girl half-smiled, "Hi. What are you doing out here?"

"I was afraid I was lost, but it's okay. What are you doing out here?"

"Walking?" The child sarcastically raised her eyebrows. She almost laughed at her reaction, but decided against it.

"Which way is town?"

"It's that way," the little girl pointed behind her with her thumb.

"Are you out here alone?"

"Sure, I'm usually alone." She smiled.

"Aren't your parents afraid someone will try to kidnap you?"

"Are you going to kidnap me?"

"Well, no…" she had to at least grin. "Of course not. I would be worried, though, if I were your mother."

"I don't have a mom or a dad."

"You live in Silent Hill?"

"I do now."

The little girl eventually confessed her name was Laura Ambrose. She had come to find a woman named Mary, a woman who was going to adopt her. But, she never found her. Laura paused a minute and looked up at her, "So, what are you doing here?"

"I am a reporter in Portland. I was trying to find out why so many people disappear here."

"In Silent Hill?"

"Yes."

"I haven't ever heard of anyone who disappeared here. Are you sure you have your facts straight?"

"Well, I thought so."

"I guess Mary, sort of, disappeared. I don't know if she was ever really here to begin with."

"Mary?"

"She was my best friend in the whole wide world." The little girl's expression clouded. She hung her head in silence.

"You must've loved her."

"I did, but I didn't like her husband."

"Why not? Was he mean?"

"Yes. He was mean to her, not me, just her."

"What was his name?"

"James."

The name stuck in her mind. Could that be Sunderland? "What was his last name?"

"Sunderland. Mary was Mary Shepherd-Sunderland, his wife. She was wonderful. Why? Do you know them?" Her expression brightened.

"No, no. I have heard James was missing, though."

"No, he isn't. He's somewhere in town."

They progressed towards the area where her car was parked. She would drive her into town. It wasn't safe for a child to be walking on the roads alone, even with no threat from people, there were threats from nature. The skies overhead became gray. A light mist drizzled through the protective limbs overhead. She was already wet, so that didn't matter. She wanted to get in the car and turn the heat on as high as it would go.

Fog developed on the lake and lazily rolled onto the highway as they rounded the final curve. She couldn't see the rest area from the turn, visibility was gone. "Why does it get so foggy here?"

"It usually is." She nodded. "I'm not sure why, I think it's the lake."

They eventually arrived at the rest stop. Her bag seemed to weigh twenty pounds more than it did when she started the walk. Her shoulders ached where she'd carried it. They got in the car and started towards town.

Laura watched her for a minute. "Have you been swimming?"

"It's a long story… really. I fell in the lake." The child studied her a minute longer, as if she didn't believe the story, but she didn't ask questions. She was glad. She was too tired for answers. This had already been the longest morning she'd ever experienced and it wasn't even lunchtime. She was exhausted. Maybe she should conclude they day's events and go home now. Maybe she shouldn't look any longer. Maybe she should get out of town while she could.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The fog didn't disperse even as they distanced themselves from the lake. It seemed to worsen as they approached the main streets of Silent Hill. County Highway 73 eventually became Nathan Avenue, but something was wrong. She tried to turn at Vachss Street, but a massive barrier had been erected. A wall of chain-link fencing and sheets of dingy plastic blocked both access and the view.

She crept the car forward to Lindsey and then Neely Street, every road was blocked. She stopped at the barrier on Neely. Where else could they go? She didn't want to alarm the child, but she was afraid herself. The highway hadn't been anything like this just a little bit earlier. "What's going on?" She tried to keep her voice as calm and casual as possible.

"The roads? Oh, it's the fires. It does this when it gets foggy." Laura showed no sign or indication of distress. Apparently, it was the most common and ordinary of events.

"Fires? What fires?"

"The fires… burning underground? Where have you been? It's so foggy because of the lake and smoke from the underground fires. Go look for yourself." Laura impatiently huffed and returned to toy with her teddy bear.

She didn't want to get out and look. She didn't want Laura to be correct. In order for her to be right, the world had to dramatically change. It couldn't. She'd been asleep earlier and she was wide awake now. It was impossible for such changes to take place in waking life.

The world felt different when she stepped out of the car. It wasn't like this earlier. She'd just came earlier from the society building and the road looked nothing like this. She peeked over a ledge that descended for hundreds of feet. Far down at the bottom, she could see a slip of orange fire burning.

Her mind returned to the man. The creature with the sword. Was this his realm? If the countryside had looked like it had in his world, was this what the town looked like? The most important thing was to remain calm. If she panicked, Laura would panic and they would both be in trouble. She had to remain strong for the child. She could freak out when she was home.

"Okay," she returned to the drivers' seat. "We'll just have to find a clear road, won't we?"

"Yea, we will. I think Munson Street is clear. It usually is, anyway."

"I don't understand, I was just through here earlier. How could it…" She wasn't certain of how to finish the sentence without scaring her. Although, it seemed the little girl knew far more about it than she did.

"It's okay. You expect weird stuff here when it's like this."

"And you… you got through this fine by yourself?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I?" Laura was clearly offended by the insinuation she couldn't take care of herself. She would go with it. If a little girl could survive alone, she should be fine.

She followed Laura's directions and, as promised, Munson Street was free of barricade. Rosewater Park lay to the right, free of pedestrians or cars within view. She turned onto the next street and tried to look for others. "I don't see anyone."

"You probably won't. You can't find anyone when the fog comes out."

"Where do they go?"

"How should I know? I told you, you can't find anyone to ask."

"How long have you been here?"

"A year or so."

"And this is common?"

"Yes."

They drove down Munson, but it was no use. There wasn't a person visible anywhere. She couldn't leave Laura by herself in town anymore than she could by the road, she was just a child. Someone needed to take care of her. She passed Jack's Inn, a tiny motel that was as vacant as all other establishments in Silent Hill. She made a doughnut at the Katz Street intersection and returned to Nathan Avenue.

"Why not let me come with you until it clears," she smiled from the passenger's seat. "I've always wanted to see the exciting life of a reporter."

"Exciting? You really don't know much about reporters, do you?"

"How is it not exciting? Crime? Adventure?"

"In movies, maybe," she had to giggle despite the situation. It was the same attitude she had growing up. She couldn't wait to enjoy an action filled life reporting on crime or celebrities, it would be a venture in glamour and exhilaration. Sadly, it wasn't even remotely similar to the ideals she held.

"Trust me, I've been doing it 5 years and this is the most exciting thing I've done."

"Oh," disappointment rang in her voice. She sat back in her seat and sighed, "So, where are we going now?"

"I'm not sure. I may stop at the Historical Society, there might be someone there." The road had changed with the fog as well. Litter clustered the borders of the sidewalk. Abandoned cars were parked haphazardly here and there. Everything looked dingy and faded. "Why does the town look like that?"

"I don't know. I've been here a while and haven't figured it out. I only know when Silent Hill looks like this, you can't find another person anywhere."

"Then, it's a good thing we ran into each other." She was relieved regardless of what Laura felt. She couldn't think of any child wandering out there alone, it was a crime. Did the townspeople just allow her to come and go? Any person could just snatch her away and she'd never be heard from again. Whatever took all those victims she'd researched could be waiting for the little girl. How was it possible she survived without anyone to care for her? And all those adults had gone missing. It was unreal. She didn't have parents herself growing up, but her aunt had been just like a mother. She couldn't have asked for more love or support. Not even to have that was heartbreaking.

They crept through the low visibility until the historical society building came into view. She pulled in the parking lot and turned the engine off. Laura looked at her, cocked her head for a moment. "What are we looking for here?"

"Just information on the disappearances. It shouldn't take long." It probably wouldn't happen to begin with. There weren't any cars in the lot, still. Now that she thought of it, she hadn't passed any cars since she pulled out of the rest stop.

She put her purse in the backpack, it would be better to carry them both. They emerged from the car and approached the front entrance. She didn't understand precisely why they needed such a building for a town no larger than Silent Hill. Portland was around twice the size and their society building was a rented boutique downtown. But, if a town spent money, regional history was the best cause.

She paused, but made all attempts to be casually looking around. She had the unsettling feeling that something had changed, even though it had only been moments since she'd passed through. It was something slight, something she couldn't pinpoint even as she once again approached the door. Laura's tiny footfall trailed close behind, but that wasn't it.

She reached out and barely touched the door. She knew it wouldn't open. But, it did. It easily moved with her touch. She pushed on the latch and stepped inside, "Someone must be here." She smiled down at the girl.

"No one's ever here," Laura sighed and walked inside to look at a massive poster arrangement of historic Silent Hill.

"Hello?" She called out into the small room. Laura moved over to look at the small kids' section by the counter as she strode into the next room. The front area was clearly a gift shop with coffee mugs and tee-shirts. A wall of books on local flavor stood to the right beside two trolleys of post cards. The room beyond was arranged to appear like a museum with displays and posters depicting various stages of the town's life. Relevant artifacts were housed beneath glass. She walked into the next area and came upon the first set of glass plate photographs with a plaque. It read:

"Silent Hill's origins remain hotly debated amid town historians. The first theory states the town was a sacred Native American gathering place, but was overtaken with settlers due to its close proximity to Toluca Lake. The second theory claims Silent Hill originated as a stage coach stop and that a tavern and inn sat where our society building now does. We encourage all visitors to draw their own conclusions."

There were paintings of both an old stage coach inn and a cluster of houses alongside an Indian village in the display. That was strange, but she wouldn't expect any less from this place. _A town with no known origin._ It didn't seem possible, in the modern world, that any city or town would have unknown beginnings.

She walked further around the next corner and stopped.

She blinked several times to be sure it wasn't just her eyes playing tricks on her. What the hell did that? There was a whole in the wall.

It appeared the wall had been blown outwards… or inwards…. Wherever it went. She walked to the brink of the hole and peered down. A gigantic staircase angled downward, she couldn't see what lay down there.

"Laura?" She waited a moment, but there was no answer returned. She returned to the first room. "Laura?" She asked again.

She was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Laura?" The little girl wasn't in the room. The picture book she'd looked at laid sideways on the ground. Someone must've taken her. How could she? She shouldn't have left her. _You don't leave kids alone in stores._ She ran to the entrance and grabbed the latch, but the door wouldn't move. How the hell did it get locked? If she couldn't open it, a child couldn't. It made no sense because no one else was there to take her and there was no way out. "Laura, where are you?"

She looked around the displays and even in the nook beneath the cash register. There was a closed door off the shop area, but it wouldn't open either. What if she was in danger? What if she was in trouble? She paced each room for a moment, trying to grasp what was going on. Where did she go? She couldn't just abandon her. She couldn't just leave her to fend for herself. She was a just baby.

She tried the telephone next to the cash register, but the line was remained silent. She yanked her cell phone out of her backpack. Maybe the cops would know what to do. She stomped her foot when the phone didn't even show half a bar. There was reception here, she'd just looked at it earlier. It was insane. She quickly returned to the front door and tried to force it open. If she had a crowbar, she would open it one way or the other. She pulled on the latch with all her strength until her body nearly laid out straight, but she let go.

A noise prompted her to release her grasp. She fell to the thinly carpeted surface with a _thump_. There was something outside. She didn't like it. She waited for it to sound again. She held her breath, her pulse raced in her ears.

She heard a familiar groan of metal. It came just a bit louder every time it sounded. That meant it was approaching. She slowly stepped back from the entrance. She heard a familiar chatter accompany that sound of groaning metal. _God, not again._ It couldn't be that thing. It just couldn't be. That was a dream, damn it. It was just a dream. But, the sound came again… and again.

And Laura was now out there to fend for herself.

She couldn't think any longer. She couldn't do anything. She clutched her pack to silence the jingling of her keychain and the clinking of her equipment. That thing might hear it. She sprinted to the hole in the wall and down the steps. She jumped them by two and three on several occasions. She had to get away. That thing moved faster than she could. She may not get a head start if it sees her.

She came to a closed door, breathed a prayer of relief that it wasn't locked. She paused just a moment, but the sound of groaning metal was silent. Or she'd actually outrun him. It was clearly a masculine body, so it must be a "he." She stepped through the new door and stopped a moment. It was another room, a gallery like those above.

The room had paintings of strange torture devices and even stranger ritualistic imagery. The grouping of paintings in the corner caught her eye. She approached the collection with bated breath. The thing that chased her above, was highlighted in the paintings down here. The only text anywhere in the collection was a faded bronze plaque that read, "The Guilty Executioner."

Oh, yes, it was indeed an executioner, but how did it exist? Why did it carry that thing on its head? What was the sword for? And who decided who was executed?

Another grouping on the opposite wall depicted a variety of cruel devices. One painting was labeled, "The Witch's Cage." A man had an iron cage upon his shoulders, with the tallest bar several inches above the top of his head. His tongue was hooked and being pulled out from his mouth.

She shuddered. That was not what she wanted to see at that moment.

Maybe she could rest a moment inside that next door. Maybe. But, there wouldn't likely be any rest until she found the child, at least. Where did Laura go? She couldn't get her out of her mind. She was alone and defenseless, maybe running from the Executioner. How could a child contend with that?

She inched her way to the dilapidated door in the corner. She wasn't certain she wanted to enter there, either. Several paintings depicted a number of executioners, which meant there was more than one. What if another lay on the other side of the door? She couldn't go back the way she'd come though, couldn't go through a locked door.

She sighed and continued through the next threshold. It was so quiet down here. Maybe it had been this quiet all along, but Laura had been there to talk. She wanted to go home. She wasn't ready for this. She didn't want anymore adventure. She looked forward to nice boring days filled with nice safe, boring topics. She shouldn't have come to Silent Hill. What did she think she'd find? Did she honestly think there would just be some dangerous curve in the road or some simple danger? There was nothing simple about it. She had the flashlight with her, but didn't need it.

She snapped out of her thoughts when her shoes hit metal grating. She walked atop one of those metal grates, like from the wishing well when the world changed. She cringed at the thought of being back in that world. There was nothing below, but darkness. She stared for a moment, she'd watched that darkness before. _Tell me, Aunt Lydia. Why can't I go home?_ She remembered asking her aunt that night. The sky was black, utterly and starkly black.

The walls were rusted metal and filth littered the floor. This was a building of some kind, but there was no way to know exactly what it was. Perhaps an industry of some sort.

The small corridor ended with three doors, one in front, one to the right and one to the left. She nudged the right one open, ready to bolt in case danger lurked inside. She entered a decrepit office and pulled a long pencil from her pack. She didn't want to touch anything. There might be black mold or dangerous fungi on the surfaces. She poked and prodded the books and papers.

Apparently, she was now in the old Toluca Prison. She'd never heard of it. She pulled out her camera to photograph the pages of the handwritten ledger. She would love to carry them all with her, but there was no way of knowing how she could carry them and run, if she needed to. There was always the threat that she would need to sprint at any moment, should the Executioner find her.

The small screen revealed new documents, not those stained with moisture damage and age. She held the camera up and move it around, the entire room appeared shiny and new in that little screen. The walls weren't rusted in that perspective, they were polished steel or aluminum. She photographed the ledger as quickly as possible.

Toluca Prison was created to shelter around 300 prisoners during the Civil War. The numbers continued growing and they continued adding on to the existing structure. It was formally converted to a prison in 1866. The remaining wartime prisoners were eventually sent home, but it didn't appear many were released.

It was built into the mountainside, each floor staggered in a stair-step formation out towards the lake. Nature insulted the floors by keeping both heat and cold out. The earth surrounding the buildings kept them at a constant temperature of around sixty degrees year-round. The structure was overhauled several times. Electricity came in 1900. Indoor plumbing was added, thanks to the lake, along with a complete renovation by 1905. It was the first prison of its kind to utilize so much of nature.

She flipped through more paperwork, but the door shut behind her. She turned quickly, expecting the Executioner to be there. But, the room was empty. She ran to it and opened it. The hall was silent. Almost. She heard someone talking. Two men to be precise, they were speaking in whispers.

"Did you do it?" The first man asked.

"Sure, he's floating on the lake now."

"Did the guard see you?"

"Of course not. You think I'm an idiot?"

"I don't want to get into trouble."

"I'm already a dead man." The second voice coldly remarked. Blips of some kind blinked and hovered at the door across from her. It almost looked like static charges. She held up the camera and saw two faded men. They both wore dingy uniforms that had "Toluca Prison" across the shoulders. One held a broom while the other held a pair of pliers.

The two figures faded as she watched them through the screen. She lowered the lens and the blips of static were gone. What was this place? Where was she?

She didn't feel like exploring the paperwork any longer. She didn't feel like embarking on anything, but the journey home. It didn't feel like she would ever make it back from where she was.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

She turned to give the office papers a final look, but she could only take a moment. She needed to move on and find a safe way out. She gave the final book a flip through and a newspaper clipping fell from onto the dusty desk blotter below. The headline read, "Prison Riot Ends Tragically."

The article was shocking for the era. Most details should've been white-washed to quell citizen fears. A guard was murdered and his body was found in the lake a week earlier. The event prompted prison officials to crack down on the inmates because no one came forth to admit guilt. No one told on the guilty party for fear of retribution. The reporter supposed the inmates' resentment towards management had built as the accusations of prisoner torture had built in town.

The article claimed on the evening of the riot, one particularly rowdy group was denied supper for bad behavior. They rioted. The rampaging crowd killed over twenty prisoners, ten guards, and several escaped into the lake. Several inmates were "firebugs," and burned down several houses as well as a few businesses in town during the night. The firebugs were both awaiting trial where they would be ordered to Cedar Grove Sanitarium. For a night, there were a total of five rapes and seven murders in the tiny town of Silent Hill.

The inmates had created a massive escape route in back of the prison, within the earth. The townspeople were livid at the negligence of prison management. The wardens had ordered the inmates to dig, claiming it was hard labor to create another addition for the prison. But, the inmates simply tunneled up through the earth until they were free.

Her mind returned to the long stairwell she'd just ascended earlier. Was that where they escaped? Well, it was time for her to escape, too. That thing up above was likely gone if it hadn't caught her by now. She opened the office door and turned to journey back up to the surface, but she nearly ran into a wall. The doorway was now sealed. She looked at it a moment and tried to gather her bearings. She touched the newly formed wall. It was solid. She knocked on it, but it wouldn't be budged. The wall appeared just as those around her, as if it had been there for years. Someone had written in large red letters, "_No Going Back Now_." The red liquid still shone in the overhead lights.

The door that had been to the left when she came down was locked. She opened the central door that led into another barren hallway. It ended at yet another heavy, metal door. She pushed it open.

The rusty metal groaned, but moved. The next room appeared to be a cafeteria, at some point in history. It was vile now. The rioting must've taken place here because everything was covered in grime, chairs were thrown about and numerous trays had been scattered across several tables. A lone painting hung on the far wall, at an angle. It looked exactly like the cafeteria she stood in. She walked forward and out the next door.

The hallway outside looked much like the cafeteria. The barred doors surrounding her had either rusted open or shut and rust now formed haphazard burgundy patterns on the walls and floor. How the hell did you get out of this place? There weren't any footprints on the floor, desks were covered in as much dust and grime as everything else. It could've been decades since someone was down here last. _Maybe I'll never be found._ She explored the new area, the cells and even the old showers. She found a door outside, she burst into a sprint. She was going home. She was never coming back to Silent Hill. She was…

She came to a dead halt at the guillotine. This was no exit. This was some kind of execution yard. The gallows were in remarkably good condition for the prison's age. The interior looked worse than the exterior and that included the shelter of metal sheeting.

She slowly walked ahead and, as she expected, a massive concrete wall towered high above her. An empty lookout tower stood far above each corner of the wall. It was no exit. Maybe she just needed to find some rope. If she could somehow climb up the side of the wall, she could just jump down from the other side.

She returned to the old prison with a slight feeling of empowerment. Maybe it wasn't as bleak as she feared. All she had to do was find a way to get over that wall. She would be free and on her way.

She rounded another block of cells and came down on the opposite side of where she entered. She came to a hole in the floor. Someone had opened a hatch that led down into darkness. She could jump. She could jump and perhaps she would just go to a basement or something. Or not.

The handle was comprised of a wax base holding a horseshoe upright. She wouldn't touch it. There was no way of knowing how old that mechanism was or if that was purposeful. Maybe that was to allow some kind of air flow within the old prison so mold and toxins wouldn't develop.

She walked to the nearest green metal door, it groaned open when she put her weight behind it. She'd hoped for a janitorial or maintenance closet. Instead, she found another lengthy stairwell that descended down into more darkness. Well, what choice was there? There was no rope or tools anywhere up here. If it was another dead end, she could always come back. _Hopefully._

She pulled out her flashlight and shone it down the incline. It appeared sturdy enough to walk down. She slowly walked, mindful of the sounds of creaking metal and grinding rust. She came to the bottom and stopped. More blips blinked and more voices spoke. She heard two men:

"They'll never know what hit 'em."

"You think we'll get away with it?"

"Sure, who's suspecting it? We're the only ones who know about it."

"What if we get caught?"

"What are they going to do? We're on the chopping block in a week."

"Yea, you're right… so, when do we start?"

"Five minutes. They don't know we saw them push that guard in the water. Black has been riding my ass all week. He's not going to do it anymore because of what they did. It's us or them. You get Hackney and I'll get Fowler. Most of the guys are half-starved, so they're ready for anything."

She remembered how the camera picked them up the last time. She quickly pulled out the digital and aimed at the men. The prisoners didn't look like our modern criminals, in any regard. They had incredibly short hair, none of them sported tattoos, and they were all rail-thin. _Starvation._ They kept them hungry. That must've really been what fueled the riot.

The blips faded into the past and she was again alone, the stairway again silent. Maybe it would be better to highlight what happened in the prison instead of only those missing. If the two who killed the guards weren't also responsible for the riot, it had to be the men she'd just heard. That was, of course, accepting that she actually escaped the prison herself.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and switched the flashlight off. There were lights down here, too. She opened the door and a wave of foul odor hit. The stench was like walking into a tangible wall. She put a hand across her nose and took a moment to steady herself. She stumbled around in the dim light, she almost fell, but caught herself on a table. Fortunately, the mobile table wouldn't easily move or she would've fallen.

She steadied her body and paused. There were bodies in here. Bodies everywhere. There were six openings on the wall that held bodies. Gurney's that held bodies. Dried gore and trails of blood were everywhere. She was not touching those gurneys. She might find success if she pulled one back up to the execution yard, but she wasn't even attempting it. It was disgusting. What the hell was this? Bodies from the prison would be reduced to skeletal remains by now, if not dust.

She was not staying here. She had the sudden fear that the bodies really weren't dead. That they really weren't quite or still. That any moment, all those bloody corpses would come to life. She picked up her pace and came to another opening in the floor. They dumped the bodies in here? What the hell was this? Another lower level? She tiptoed around the edge and moved to the door ahead. How many stories did this place have?

She was so tired. She was hungry and thirsty, too. It wasn't any mystery how the prisoners had gone mad. She felt mad herself and she'd just been in the structure a few hours. Or had it even been that? Regardless of the time, she felt as mad as a hatter. In many ways, it felt like she'd been there several days. _Already dead._

She followed the next set of steps mechanically and without hope. She had no expectations of what she would find. She may descend these steps for the rest of eternity. Maybe this was hell. Maybe the Executioner had killed her back at the museum and this was hell. _Maybe it's already too late. Maybe it's already a waste of effort to try. Maybe he got to me when I tried running. Maybe he sliced me in two and I had no idea. Maybe this is my eternity._

She descended the steps with a sigh. She couldn't give up now. She couldn't listen to those possibilities. It wasn't over. It couldn't be. The next floor was equally strange. Cruel, archaic looking hooks hung from the ceiling down here. Old rusty knives hung on the walls. A grated hole in the floor below indicated a massive drainage area below. What the hell was this?

She pushed open the nearest door and found another dusty office. The papers on the desk read: "Silent Hill Butchering." The originator of that name would likely never know how applicable it would be with those Executioner things roaming the region.

She pulled her pencil back out and flipped though some papers. She didn't find anything that piqued her interest. The drawers below came out with some nudging, metal grated against rust.

She pulled out a ledger that was much like the one she found in the prison office above. She pulled out her camera to see if it would work down here. It did. Everything was new and legible again in the little screen.

The entries started out, "While the prison is now closed, we are finding success with operating the butchery area. We now have contracts to supply the Lakeview as well as the butcher shop and several restaurants in Silent Hill. The first year's profits were agreeable and the next year appears to be just as promising."

She dug below to find several newspaper clippings. One headline read, "A Positive Outcome."

The article read:

"Silent Hill was distressed to see the prison close after the riot. Many citizens, employed by the penal facility, lost their jobs when the state closed the institution. Fortunately, some quick thinking residents may have saved those jobs. The Silent Hill Butchering Company has found rapid success and, just last week, brought in the last person to lose their prison job…"

She pulled another scrapbook from the bottom of the drawer. The first clipping read, "A Match Starts a Wildfire."

She finally found what happened that night. But, why was this in a newspaper? It was far too graphic for most printers at the time of the incident. The article read:

"Inmates of the Toluca Prison prepared for dinner as usual two nights ago. The stringent and minimal meals were a form of punishment after the tragic murder of Donald Sullivan, a long-time guard at the prison. Witnesses report at 6:05, two inmates grabbed two other prisoners and killed them. That set off a chain of events, including a major fire, and as a result, the majority of the 86 prisoners escaped.

"The tragedies witnessed in Silent Hill that night are too graphic and brutal to be listed in any detail. The evening ended with the fire at the Lakeview Recital. The annual gala used to feature local talent was disrupted when a fire started in the theater. Four hundred and seventeen persons were killed from burns or smoke inhalation. The remaining nineteen required hospitalization."

She photographed the documents and exited the office. She felt despondent in the old room with the hooks. She was never going to find a way out. She was never going to go home. She was dead. That had to be it. She was dead and this was her punishment for taking that nice, safe normal life for granted.

She heard something metal clang somewhere in the distance. She heard a gunshot and waited. It couldn't be the Executioner, she knew his sound well. Even if it was, maybe she was already doomed to confront him. There was no reason to procrastinate the meeting. She walked towards the sound.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The metallic noise she'd heard earlier became a steady rhythm. It wasn't the Executioner; there was no deep metal groan and no chatter of bugs. Every few seconds, three clangs arose in a repetitive noise. She passed through another small corridor, by another room that still held wooden boxes ready to transport product from decades earlier.

She rounded a tiny alcove and held her breath until she nearly fainted. She was afraid it would vanish and become another rusted antiquity. She reached out and gingerly slid her finger across the cold surface of a thoroughly modern door. Who cared if she had to go through five more levels? It just didn't matter. Maybe she would survive. Maybe she would make it.

She opened the next door and walked into a refrigeration room. It needed some cleaning, but appeared fairly modern. A large plaque on the wall read, "Silent Hill Processing." It couldn't be more than a decade or two old. The fonts were too contemporary, the paint looked recent.

She picked up her step and exited the next metal door. She walked into a chilly room filled with sides of both beef and pork that were suspended from the ceiling. However, the room didn't hold much of an odor. The floor was clean and looked relatively sanitary. No trace of the old construction was noticeable in the newer areas. There was no rust anywhere that she could see.

The clanging grew louder as she'd dodged the hanging carcasses. She came to a portly blond kid sitting with his legs crossed in the center of the room. He was knocking a side of meat back and forth, its hook clanged against the metal apparatus that held it. He was older, had to be at least a high school kid. "Hello?"

"Hi." He didn't look up from the floor.

"I didn't think I'd ever see anyone again."

"That's easy to do here."

"I'm Katrina."

"Eddie," he didn't offer his hand and she hadn't extended her own. Something was wrong. Her stomach knotted and her pulse quickened. She tried to alleviate the impending dread by talking, "I was just in the prison and I didn't think I'd make it out."

"No one goes in the prison, it's locked and sealed up. You're lying to me… you're just like that guy-"

"But, I was. I…" Her words faded when she walked around. Eddie's face wasn't normal. She could see his profile. His features were distorted, his body distended, she backed towards the door on the opposite side of the room. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

"You do that." He barked. "Like you're any better than any of us."

She didn't wait to hear the rest of his words and wasn't surprised when gunfire rang out behind her. She bolted through the next door and the next. She emerged on a dock, the fog still heavy, she fell to her knees and nearly sobbed. Here she was. She was alive. She was outside.

She heard a boat in the distance and looked out. A man drove a boat in the opposite direction. He drove towards a tiny light in the distance. She ran towards him with her arms waving. "Hello?"

He couldn't hear her over the boat's motor. She studied him a moment. Was that Sunderland? Laura was right. He really was in the town.

Well, there was no way to land from where she stood without swimming. There weren't any other boats docked. The dock jutted out over the lake, but there still wasn't any solid land to cross. Eddie continued to yell inside, he fired the gun repetitively. He approached. _How many bullets are in that damned thing?_

She dove into the water and rose back up beneath the shelter of the wooden dock. She quietly swam to the opposite end to watch what happened. She looked back and Eddie stepped outside, his pistol drawn. "I know you're out here." He charged.

She heard a sound and froze. The long groan of metal sounded like it was on top of her. She trembled as she slowly raised her eyes. _God, it can't be. He can't be there._ _I didn't hear him._ The massive steel blade splintered the dock's wood overhead as the Executioner dragged it along. Splintered fragments of wood rained down on her and the water's surface below. He couldn't just appear. He couldn't. It was impossible. Why didn't she hear him approach? She had every time before.

She slowly sank until only her eyes were above waterline. She quietly clung to a post so she wouldn't make any splashing noise. The Executioner had almost reached Eddie. The bizarre confrontation was only compounded by Eddie's arrogance. "Who the hell are you?"

The Executioner drew the blade back and Eddie fired a few bullets at him. They pierced his flesh, but didn't make him flinch. The creature moved as if nothing hit him. The Executioner swung and, despite Eddie's rotund physique, he ducked and missed the blade. "Is that all you got?"

The Executioner reached out a massive arm before Eddie could speak. He raised Eddie high off the ground by his neck. She heard his choking from where she hid. The beast drew the blade back again and lunged into his abdomen. Eddie, despite evisceration, continued to ridicule the monster. How was that possible? He didn't cry. Half his insides were now outside and it didn't force him to miss a breath. He continued insulting the beast killing him.

What was wrong with those people? Everyone was mad. They were stark, raving mad and she was in the middle of it. The Executioner pulled the blade out; gore splattered on the wooden railing, and he next went for Eddie's head. She heard the thump and bit her lip to avoid screaming.

The Executioner dropped the headless corpse on the dock. Blood spilled over the side of the dock and into the lake when the body hit the deck. A pool must have formed under them from the evisceration. The Executioner paused a moment. She was ready to dive under the waves as soon as he noticed her.

He turned, he looked at her. She didn't speak. He continued to watch her a moment and, instead of moving towards her, he simply went into the building they'd just exited. She had the strangest sense that her running had been pointless. He passed her by. She knew he saw her. She knew he watched her, even if only for a moment. But, he let her live.

She was alone. The Executioner was gone. Eddie was dead. And the guy in the boat sailed off into who knew what. She glanced across the lake and noticed the familiar railing. She'd fallen from there when she came out of the well. She began swimming towards it.

Why did he let her live? Why didn't he kill her? If he could appear like that, he could've killed all of them before they even knew it. He didn't. Maybe Laura was safe. The weight of that guilt lifted from her shoulders. Maybe the child survived.

She didn't care if that really was Sunderland. He obviously had a reason for staying there, that was none of her business and she was through with it. She had no interest in Silent Hill. Any hunger for adventure or action had long been satiated and she now looked forward to boredom and monotony. If Sunderland was running from something, and he wanted to stay with those _things_, more power to him. She wasn't.

Maybe that was best. Maybe there really were things in Silent Hill that needed to remain quiet. Perhaps Macon had a valid reason for creating the publication his way. She needed to talk to him. She needed to tell him everything. He'd been at work far too long not to notice. Perhaps he had answers where she had none.

She climbed the embankment yet again. Her clothing was now muddy. She walked the same route and returned to the highway. She walked in the opposite direction to get to her car. She looked ahead and noticed a familiar figure walking to her. She picked up the pace. She ran to the little girl and hugged her.

"You scared me to death." Laura charged.

"What?"

"Where did you go? I just came out to see if I had any money in my teddy. I tried to go back in and you locked the door."

"But, the door was locked inside. I tried to get out."

"You know your car is still at the building? How'd you get out?"

"I had to go out through… several basements." She couldn't tell her everything. She wanted to forget most of it herself. "So, where do you need to go?"

"I don't know. I can go anywhere."

"I can't take you _anywhere_, I need a destination."

"Fine. I want to go to the Happy Burger." They found the car and the gentlemen at the historic society building let her use the restroom to tidy up. She glanced in the room she had just been in earlier, there was no hole in the wall. The building appeared perfectly intact. The front door now opened both ways with no hesitation.

The elderly man in the building looked at her strangely, as if he already knew what had happened. She had a strange feeling about him. She promptly left and took Laura into town.

"I thought I saw James Sunderland on the lake."

"Probably, he's around."

Silent Hill was free of obstruction and barrier. She marveled at the modern condition of the town when earlier in the day, it looked like a bomb had exploded. "The barriers are gone."

"Told you."

They pulled into the Happy Burger and Laura jumped out of the car. "Last one in is a rotten egg."

Laura said she was just running to the restroom after they ate, she disappeared a second time. She looked all over, but none of the staff said they'd seen her. They thought summoning the police would be a waste of time. She couldn't find anyone to make a report of any kind, the police station was closed when she drove by.

She gave up and returned home. It was good to be back. She didn't think she'd see her apartment again. She called the Sheriff's office in Silent Hill, but they informed her that Laura was sitting there with them. At least she was safe. She stayed out of work the next day, but couldn't procrastinate the entire week. She walked into the Portland Gazette and Macon waited for her. "Visited Silent Hill?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to talk about… your findings?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I did."

He motioned for her to follow him into the office. He closed the door behind them and poured her a cup of coffee. "You know, Katrina, I run my paper the way I do for a reason."

"Yes, sir. To maintain the positive image the community has came to associate with the town and the newspaper," she'd heard it a million times since she started there. She wasn't expecting him to laugh when she finished.

He sat down across from her and continued to laugh a moment. "I'm sorry," he eventually calmed. "I'm sorry. I'm so used to being the one saying that. I'm surprised anyone else even remembered it."

"That isn't the reason."

"I can't help, but see every other media outlet in the world so caught up in portraying the worst society has to offer. You can't watch the evening news without murder, violence or rape. I like to think that this tiny publication can at least shelter our town from complete abasement. So, that much is true."

The conversation silenced a moment. Macon paused to gather his thoughts, "I already know, Katrina. I know about the disappearances. I know about the mysteries."

"But, how did you..?"

"I noticed your compiling missing person's cases. And I know you. You're very ambitious and very bored with the ordinary work here."

"But, I-"

He held up his hand before she could finish. "That's precisely what you need to be right now. I was the same way. Silent Hill is a different place, Katrina."

"Tell me about it."

"It's like two places on top of one another. A place of today and a place of fire and metal… but you never really know which is the real town."

She watched him a moment. He knew. He already knew everything. She opened her mouth to speak slowly, but she couldn't stop. She began talking so fast, she could hardly get the words out. She had someone to talk to. She confessed to everything, the well, the historical society, the prison, even the Executioner. She couldn't hold back. She hadn't been able to tell anyone anything and she was about to burst if she couldn't get it out.

She slowed, the desperate need to be heard was satiated. Macon smiled, "most of my family's generation at the time of the recital fire, were burned alive in it. We stayed there until I was grown, I moved out, and then my family came to Portland. There have always been oddities there and nothing we do will change it. They've always been there. The Native Americans avoided that area for a reason. The lake is no better."

He stood back up, "I take it you won't be writing about your experiences there?"

"No, no. I'll do the missing persons articles, if you would still like them, from my desk."

"Of course, they will be good for the community. It's best if you just stay away from it. The people who live there do so at their own risk. I'm not telling you what to do, but as a former resident, you need to be prepared for the… unexpected."

The spoke a moment longer and she left. No, she was not going to Silent Hill any time soon. It was likely she'd never return. She would miss Laura, but the child seemed to be as much a mystery as the Executioner. She wasn't prepared to encounter any of it. _A dangerous curve._ The thought was laughable now. To think those disappearances could stem from something natural or organic… she'd been so naïve.

There was a letter on her desk, her name and the paper's address was written in crayon. She opened it up and pulled out a piece of notebook paper. A child had drawn a cartoon of a big stick figure and a small stick figure. A scrawl of words went across the bottom, "Thank you for the food. -Laura" She shoved the picture in her desk drawer and started the article on the strange disappearance of James Sunderland.


End file.
